


L'Amour et la Violence

by coffeerepublic



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, F/M, Spoilers, mature content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeerepublic/pseuds/coffeerepublic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An oxymoron. Your very existence was a contradiction in terms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. L'haleine

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> I had a sudden inspiration for this. The drabbles are based off several French words and are supposed to tell a story.
> 
> I just had to write something! The itch has been killing me. Choosing who'd be the male main character wasn't that hard; I've been obsessed with Vanitas lately.  
> Also, typing is taking me forever. I managed to tear a capsule while playing volleyball this week and my finger hurts like a bitch.
> 
> Enjoy, dear readers! Reviews would be lovely. :)

The first breath you consciously took in felt magnificent. The unfamiliar sensation became deeper, deeper, until you were suddenly met with a physical limitation and no more would go in. Instead you started coughing, all of the muscles of your upper body tensing and introducing you to yet another unknown feeling. 

The accumulation of so many new perceptions at once was overwhelming; you were able to think, able to feel… and able to consciously control your body, able to suppress the next cough.

You opened your eyes, and before you realized it, a sound came from your throat, a strangled cry as you were blinded by pure white. It died down as something covered your mouth, and once your vocal chords had stopped producing such an awful sound - you were able to hear! - the whiteness before your eyes began to lose its gruesomeness and shapes became apparent.

Your head was spinning from all of the realizations. Letting it drop back onto the cold surface you found yourself lying on, you felt what had been covering your mouth disappear. Your breathing was heavy and despite it having felt so amazing before, your lungs now seemed to burn.

The pain grew insignificant as the shapes before your eyes turned to shadows. Blinking rapidly, you were able to slowly make out something. A human being. Before you could even sort out your thoughts and wonder where your knowledge came from, another person came into your still limited field of vision, joining the first.

“This particular one is different from the remaining others, Vanitas. **She** is different.”


	2. Le mépris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> It feels good to write again. I didn't quite realize just how much I had missed it. :)
> 
> Thanks to the mod who validated the first drabble so quickly! I was quite surprised to find my story 'up and running' when I came online this morning.
> 
> Feedback? :)

_”Neither do I know how this happened, nor am I able to explain it. But I find the fact that it did more than interesting. We’ll see where this goes.”_

Master Xehanort had welcomed you willingly, offering you a place to stay, clothing to wear and food to eat. You had learned to speak rather quickly. It was as though you had known how to do so before; as though you had just forgotten it for a while and needed to readopt the movements your lips and tongue had to make in order to form words.

_”She differs from the other Unversed in her physical traits - I cannot recall a single one of them having a body that’s nearly as humanoid. Also, it seems she possesses human intelligence, something that I have never seen. She’s… versed.”_

Slowly, step by step, you were walking down the stairs. While speech hadn’t posed a problem to you, walking certainly did. It seemed your brain had trouble controlling your body once it came to more difficult movements. Eventually, you reached the bottom of the stairs and, always keeping near the wall in case you lost your balance, you gradually made your way to the front door.

Outside you found Vanitas who was practicing with his keyblade. You stopped in your tracks, intent on not making a sound so you’d be able to watch him. His style was amazingly aesthetic, you had to admit. He was a skilled fighter.

Your attempt at keeping your presence secret failed mere seconds later, when he turned to you, his keyblade dissolving.

“What are you doing here, Versed?” His eyes narrowed as they met your own. “Can’t you find anybody else to bother?”

Words came from your mouth before you even had time to think. “My name’s not ‘Versed’. It’s [Name].” You were shocked at what you had just said, not quite understanding where this had come from. But it was there now, and it felt right. Just like speech had felt distantly familiar, this name did. You knew it belonged to you.

Vanitas didn’t show the slightest sign of surprise. Instead, a sinister smirk spread on his face. He took several steps forward and put a hand on your shoulder, his grip tight and painful.

“Just know this one thing, Versed.” He pushed your shoulder, making you lose your balance and fall to your knees. You barely caught the fall with your hands, your whole body shaking as he leaned down. His voice was full of contempt, his words spoken slowly and clearly.

“I have no idea how you came to be. But you are nothing but a mere construct of negative emotion that splintered from me. You’re not supposed to have a conscience. And for that reason, you don’t deserve a name.”


	3. Le soutien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> I'm giving myself a hard time with some of the prompts I chose~.
> 
> Thanks to Meg Mayea and Twinkle64 for reviewing. I was ecstatic when I saw it! ♥
> 
> Enjoy, dear readers, and leave feedback. :)

What Vanitas had said to you still resounded in the depths of your mind. _A mere construct of negative emotion_. Was that truly all you were? No matter how hard you were trying not to believe his words, that thought had been residing in the very back of your head ever since it had been voiced. And as the days slowly passed, it crept closer, consuming you.

You couldn’t keep yourself from questioning your existence, from wondering what your purpose was. Not even Master Xehanort, a man that you had come to know as incredibly intelligent and very meticulous, could answer your questions concerning yourself. Once you had noticed how furious it obviously made him that something had happened that he wasn’t able to explain, you refrained from asking ever again.

Vanitas on the other hand didn’t seem to care much about finding out more about you or your raison d’être. He barely gave you the time of the day. Whenever the two of you happened to be in the same room, whenever you came within a radius of several meters from him; all you received from him was cold ignorance and contempt.

With each day that passed, you found yourself a little less able to convince yourself that you weren’t just horribly uncalled-for.

You turned on your mattress so you lay on your side, pulling your knees to your chest and folding your arms. The book you had been trying to read before was lying near your feet now, long forgotten.

Teaching yourself how to read was coming along rather well. As a matter of fact, all the skills that rely on mental abilities had turned out far easier for you to learn than anything physical. By now, you were able to understand most of a text as long as it consisted of rather simple words.

The book that you had received from Master Xehanort told a tale about the origin of the Land of Departure. It created an illusion of a beautiful and endearing place that you hadn’t seen. It spoke of a sun that paints the mountains, the rivers, the meadows and the castle in colors imagination cannot even conceive.

The place you had grown to know was dark, a sun nowhere to be seen. Day and night looked the exact same. Had someone asked you how long you had been here, you wouldn’t have known the answer.

You curled up a little tighter, closing your eyes.

You wished for some kind of support. It was clear to you that on your own, you would never find the light of the sun.


	4. La haine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> Finally some kind of interaction! :) Don't worry, there's going to be more of it soon enough.
> 
> Once again, a big thank-you to Twinkle64 for reviewing. -hugs-
> 
> If you have any thoughts on what you'd personally like to see in this drabble collection, feel free to share them! I'd love to hear that kind of feedback from my readers.

It was becoming a common occurrence for you to watch Vanitas as he was training. You felt a little weird, almost troubled in his presence. Nonetheless, anything was better than constantly being alone. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that the lack of company was something you couldn’t take.

Sometimes, you couldn’t just pass the time reading anymore. Sometimes, your head started spinning from all of the information and you’d have to try to find a way of distracting yourself.

This was one of those times and you had decided to come outside, where you had stumbled upon the black-haired man who was doing what he did most of the time: wielding his keyblade.

He had by now begun accepting your existence; instead of verbally maltreating you, he had moved onto ignoring you. You were content with that fact since at least this way you could simply watch him. You admired the smoothness of his movements, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again, the strength evident in every stroke.

Time went by quickly and before you knew it, the gray sky was turning an even deeper shade of black than it had been before. Night had arrived and Vanitas’ moves grew slow and staccato. He was tired. Not much later, he gave up. His keyblade dissolved and he let himself drop to the ground, still not facing you.

Without the sounds of his blade cutting through air, silence took over. The only things you could hear were the wind softly blowing and Vanitas’ heavy breaths, indicating his exhaustion.

After a few minutes you stood up. It didn’t take you many steps to reach the spot where he was sitting. You quietly sat down next to him on the cold ground, hoping he wouldn’t leave. And he didn’t. His eyes met yours for a split second before he looked away again. Still, that tiny fraction of a moment was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

It took you a few more minutes to collect the courage to break the silence.

“Vanitas?” You realized how weak your voice sounded; you rarely spoke. He didn’t answer, but sent you another glance that pierced right through you, telling you that he was listening.

“Do you know… uhm… can you tell me… how I came to be?” No reaction. “Why… why do I exist?”

Just when you thought that he wasn’t going to reply, he chuckled darkly.

“I can’t tell you. I don’t know either. And frankly, I don’t care.”

You couldn’t help but mentally scold yourself for starting this conversation in the first place. However, there was this feeling Vanitas’ presence gave you. It was a weird kind of feeling you couldn’t define. He scared you, but at the same time, you felt an absurd attraction towards him. You blamed it on that confusion which kept you from forming a single coherent thought. Otherwise you wouldn’t even have addressed him in the first place.

“You must really hate me.” And for the first time, he actually turned to you. He was smirking.

“Yes. Yes, I do. And do you want to know the reason?” He let out a laugh.

“It’s just what I do best.”


	5. Les cieux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> I apologize for taking such a long time to update this story. Somehow, I went over all the reviews for this story yesterday, and was immediately inspired to write a new "chapter" for it.
> 
> I've been a little caught up in myself recently. My hair has started to fall out. I'm scared it won't stop...
> 
> Anyways. I enjoyed writing this drabble an awful lot. I hope you feel the same way about reading it! :)

You looked up from your spot on the floor when you heard the sound of steps approaching you, the wooden boards creaking. Swallowing at the realization who it was that had entered your small room, you turned your attention back to what you had been doing. _It was Vanitas_.

He let out a quiet laugh, dark as ever, while you tried not to let his presence intimidate you. Before you had the chance to wonder what had caused him to do so, he began to speak.

“What exactly are you doing there?” It was obvious that he was referring to the utensils scattered before you on the floor: a single sheet of paper and a collection of various pencils and crayons of many kinds and colors.

“I’m drawing something,” you replied, still not bothering to make eye contact with him. Instead, you quickly grabbed the unfinished sketch and held it against your chest in an attempt to hide your work from the young black-haired man.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain. Vanitas tried to pull the piece of paper from your frail hands, wrinkling it in the process. He quickly succeeded, your resistance resulting in little more than a long paper cut across the palm of your right hand. Wincing at the sudden pain, you pulled back and examined your hand, distracted by the scarlet line that had formed almost immediately.

Your attention was quickly claimed by Vanitas once more when you heard him chuckle.

“So, what’s this supposed to be?” You turned your head to face him and saw that he was pointing at your work of _art_. You opened your mouth, but didn’t speak. Only the thought of what he’d say was making you feel too embarrassed to give him an answer. He raised an eyebrow. Apparently, he was expecting you to respond to his question.

“It’s the…” You hesitated. “It’s what the sky looks like at night.” Finally, you had said it.

He took one more look at the picture, an expression of slight distaste forming on his well-defined facial features. It showed what vaguely looked like the silhouettes of several mountains, the sky above them colored completely in a dark marine blue. It was filled with all different kinds of shapes, circles, squares, and triangles to be found among them. But what he found the most pitiful about your childish drawing were the many unrealistic colors the _stars_ were painted in.

He sighed. You knew immediately that you had managed to annoy him once again. It seemed he always found a reason to despise and scorn you a little more than he already did.

“That’s not what stars look like.”

“I’ve never seen any,” you whispered.

He shook his head, dropping the drawing before turning around and leaving. You watched as it slowly fell to the floor, landing a few feet away from you.

Looking down, you realized that while it still stung, the bleeding from the cut on your hand had stopped by now. You suddenly felt an odd kind of pressure on your upper chest area. It felt difficult to swallow and an indefinable, salty scent seemed to have invaded your nose.

Vanitas deserved to be hated such an awful lot, but you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to do so.


	6. La soumission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-posted from my Luna account.
> 
> Original preface:
> 
> This is my favorite chapter so far. Finally we're getting somewhere.

Every once in a while, Vanitas would leave unexpectedly. Sometimes he was gone until the next morning, sometimes for a few days. Sometimes for so many you lost count.

Sitting there, on the ground, you leaned back against the front door of Master Xehanort’s… _lair_ , for lack of a better word. You did this often while Vanitas was gone; you’d sit out here, simply thinking about all of the unanswered questions clouding your head.

Staring off into the distance, your vision became blurred when you forgot to blink for several moments. Closing and opening them again, you saw a dark figure slowly nearing you. Realizing who it was, your stomach tightened just the slightest bit. Had you been waiting for him? You didn’t know.

When he came to stand before you, you looked up to see his face. The shiver that ran down your spine when his golden eyes met yours put an end to your wondering; yes, doubtlessly, you had been waiting for him to return.

His whole body was littered with cuts and scratches, and the smell of dried blood infiltrated your nose. He seemed exhausted, but not to such an extent that he wouldn’t be able to throw you a deprecatory look.

“You haven’t seriously been waiting for me, have you?” He sounded more bored of you than anything.

“I haven’t.” You wanted to ask him where he’d been, what had happened to him to cause these injuries. But you knew better. After having asked him once, even twice in the past and never having received a straight answer, you wouldn’t dare ask him again.

He raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile forming on his face.

“Don’t think I haven’t realized how dependent on me you are. When I’m here, you’re never too far from me. When I’m not here, you’re waiting on me like an obedient dog. It’s pathetic.”

You got up from the ground so quickly you lost your balance for a moment. You wanted him to not be able to look down on you like this; wanted him to realize that he couldn’t treat you this way. But you were distracted when, despite the fact that you were now standing upright, he still towered over you by far. As suddenly as your defiance had come, it was gone, extinguished by his intimidating aura.

Your fists that had just now been balled, an expression of your desperate anger, slowly opened again. Instead, you crossed your arms, looking everywhere but Vanitas’ face. You couldn’t stand his condescending gaze.

The next moment, your back hit the door behind you almost painfully when you were pushed against it. You let out a quiet groan, your arms falling to your sides. His hands were on your shoulders, pressing you against the wood with such force your shoulder blades began to sting in pain.

He was everywhere; his body pressed against yours, his alluringly masculine smell in your nose, his breath on the side of your neck. He was so close you were convinced you could taste him if only you dared.

“If I told you to lie for me, you would.” You shuddered as he spoke, his dry, chapped lips moving against your skin so lightly you could barely feel it, yet enough to make you lose control of your senses.

“If I told you to fight for me, you would. If I told you to kill for me, you would.”

You swallowed, too trapped between fear and another feeling you couldn’t quite place to even try to open your mouth.

He was right, and that realization hit you hard enough to make you want to cry.

If he told you to die for him, you would.


End file.
